Only Villains Do That

It took only the briefest glance from my peripheral vision to verify that I retained my captive audience, the assembled highborn beginning to move after me before I even reached the rail. As expected: look, the funny foreigner is doing something interesting! These idiots were bored enough to be out watching a horse race next to an incipient zombie apocalypse; of course they trailed after me like newly imprinted ducklings.

My boots hit the hard-packed earth of the racetrack, and while it was a graceful landing I very much felt the lack of my trusty Surestep Boots. I was going to have to be careful around all this ice and snow until I was able to recover my artifacts. At the moment, too, the rapier I was carrying was a plain akornin specimen from Gizmit’s mostly stolen armory. After months of training I was…competent with the sword, but I should probably avoid getting into any duels.

I had a head start due to my choice of route; obviously the well-bred stragglers weren’t going to jump over the rail. They had to head along the bridge and meet me at the barn toward which I was now striding. Only Aster followed me directly; I knew it was her due to the heavier impact on the ground behind me, and the sotto voce complaining.

The track was connected to a wide lane of hard-packed earth leading into the barn complex—which, now that I looked at it directly and up close, was more impressive than Clan Ardyllen’s actual manor. It was bigger, for one thing, and better-designed than most of what I’d seen in this country. Or newer, at the very least. Currently the horses from the most recent race were being led toward the wide doors into their shelter.

The show I planned to put on was adaptable, but it would be ideal if I could find exactly the right object lesson. While striding along after the horses and their handlers, I constantly and carefully scanned the surroundings. Large sections of the barn seemed to be fronted by huge sliding doors that were practically removable walls, enabling the enclosure of the space against elements, or the opening of it to form indoor-outdoor areas for the horses. It was mostly shut but what with all the horse-related action these days a few of them were standing ajar, with animals being handled outdoors in several capacities.

Actually, no…it appeared to mostly just be farriers working on their shoes. Well, that made sense, there wasn’t a lot else you’d want to keep them outdoors in this weather for.

Wait, except… Ah. Now that was promising.

I shifted course, heading toward a particular paddock where a deep brown horse with black around its muzzle, ears, and feet was prancing around energetically, avoiding the groom trying to approach and restrain it. In fact, more limping than prancing. Conveniently, one section of this paddock’s fence abutted the lane approaching the barn. I headed right for it, striding up next to the lowborn man leaning against said fence with a worried expression.

“What seems to be the trouble here?”

He jumped, whirling to face me, and then froze up momentarily as Fflyr often did meeting me; my features were outside their racial hierarchy, which instinctively confused them, but he took in my attire—highborn style in good quality, if less embellished than theirs because I can only tolerate so much—and folded down his hands at me.

“Ah, good day, my lord. We’re just trying to get a handle on poor Thunder, here. He’s…well, young stallions get restive easily so he needs his exercise, but he’s gone and lamed himself. And that makes him mad, which makes it worse… Best keep back, my lord. Thunder’s not one to charge and he can’t jump a fence in his state, but the last thing he needs right now is a stranger hanging about. Ah, humbly begging your pardon, my lord. Horses haven’t much regard for propriety.”

“Thunder, huh.”

“His stable name, m’lord,” the groom said, bobbing his head affirmatively. “On paper, it’s Her Ebullient Thunder. Very good lineage, my lord, very good indeed. He races, but only to preserve his honor. Mostly he’s destined for a life of stud services.”

“Now that’s good work if you can get it,” I commented. The groom’s mouth shifted into the pained almost-smile of someone who’s heard an unfunny joke far too often. “What happened to his leg?”

“We didn’t see when he did it, my lord, it was overnight, but… These things do happen. Even safe in their stalls, especially with the spicier lads like Thunder, there. The vet thinks he caught it in his stall door and pulled loose too quickly. It’s a right nightmare keeping the wound dressed, my lord; Thunder takes a mess of coaxing to stand still for the farrier at the best of times, and he’ll not have anybody poking at a sore leg. I’m very much afraid he’s just going to keep making it worse.”

He turned back to study the horse, his forehead creasing with worry. The other man, the one inside the paddock, was trying again to approach the young stallion, who saw him coming and immediately set off at a rapid limp, snorting contemptuously.

“I see,” I murmured. “Well, let’s have a look, shall we?”

I grabbed the upper bar of the fence and, before anybody could stop me, vaulted over it and into the paddock.

“My lord, no!”

“Lord Seiji!” Even Aster felt the need to yell about this one. From the near distance behind, more shouts arose from my highborn audience, Highlord Lhadron in particular bellowing dire warnings.

I ignored all of them, of course, for all that they were objectively right. Bounding into an enclosure with an unhappy horse whose handlers have warned you not to do that is high on the list of the stupidest things a person can possibly do, and usually the setup for an undignified death.

Then again, I’m not just any old idiot. I’m a very rare and unique idiot, thank you very much.

The other man inside the paddock turned, saw me, and went rigid with an expression of abject horror at finding himself now having to wrangle two large, stupid animals with no sense of self-preservation.

As for Thunder, he didn’t much care for visitors. The horse rounded on me, bellowing a challenge, and trotted past—not charging, but looping by me close enough to be clearly aggressive. I watched him go, waited until he had swung almost all the way around the paddock, breaking briefly into a canter and then falling back to an awkward trot as his leg failed him. It was best, I’d found, to wait until I could make eye contact, so I let him get into position facing me.

Tame Beast.

Experimenting with the spell had revealed that the way it worked depended on the beast in question. Slimes I could outright control telepathically, because they were only sort of technically alive and had no actual nervous system. I couldn’t mind control tiny arthropods in the same way; crawns and spiders would just refrain from stinging or biting me, whereas ants and wasps seemed to declare me their new queen and would start bringing me crumbs of stuff. A large, neurologically complex animal with innate social behaviors like a dog was an entirely other matter. By casting the spell on Junko, I had not gained any magical mind link, but rather gave us a shortcut to maximum possible emotional bond, as well as enabling the most successful communication possible between a human and a dog. In essence, our connection made me an expert in canine behavior and her a highly-trained elite hound—though only in relation to one another. It wasn’t like I could teach her to do my accounting, but even mundane communication with a dog could achieve a lot if you were as good at it as it was possible to be.

Because dogs are not only pack animals innately primed to live in social groups, but domesticated animals adapted specifically for interaction with humans.

And so are horses.

Thunder immediately came to a stop, ears upright and alert. I found I could suddenly read the nuances of his body language just as easily as I knew how to modify my own to make myself understood. I moved toward him at an even pace with a relaxed and fluid posture, making soothing noises in a low tone. He watched me for a second, then whickered a soft greeting and plodded forward himself, head bobbing slightly.

I did not spare a glance at either of the grooms, but both had gone silent. I bet their expressions right then would have been priceless, but I had more important things to think about.

“There we go. Hey there, big guy.” We met a few meters from the fence, and Thunder gently bumped me on the side of the head with his nose. Wow, a horse’s nose is a lot softer than it looks. I patted his neck firmly, then stroked his long face and reached up to brush at his forelock. “That’s more like it. What’s the big idea, huh? I know it hurts, but you’re gonna make it even worse, acting like a jackass. You need to quit being such a pain to your trainer, young man. He’s just trying to help you.”

The stallion snorted and bumped at my head again, then moved it over my shoulder to hang over my back in an equine hug. From the near distance I heard several noble ladies produce the most obnoxious medley of coos and sighs I’d ever heard. Well, good, my audience had fully arrived, if they were close enough for such sounds to be audible. Not that I was going to drag this out; showtime waits for no one.

“All right, let’s see what you’ve done to yourself, dummy.” I bent and slid my hand down his left foreleg, finding I instinctively knew how to take and lift it as smoothly as a veteran farrier. The nearby groom made a hissing noise as he drew in air quickly through his teeth, but Thunder just whickered softly and obligingly lifted his leg for me. “Oof. What a mess.”

Someone had managed to apply some kind of salve to the long scratches on his leg, but he’d found time to rub a lot of it off. It was oozing blood in several places and beginning to swell in a way I didn’t like the look of.

“What were you trying to do, parkour? Dumbass. All right, no worries. Seiji’s here to fix it.”

Breath of Vitality.

“No spells!” the nearby man squeaked. “M’lord, please! Horses are…very…skittish…”

Thunder was not reacting to the sudden lightshow taking place right in his peripheral vision. Risking a look up, I found him watching this display relatively calmly; the twitching of his ears betrayed uncertainty about this fresh nonsense, but he trusted me.

Breath of Vitality was a far weaker healing spell than I was accustomed to using, but I had the audience to consider. The last thing I needed was for the entire aristocracy to connect me with the only other person on Dount who was known to cast Heal, so there would be no distinctive pink flash encompassing the entire horse. One time—once—I had used Heal in a localized manner, causing its unique visual effect to occur only right at the sight of the wound. That had been in the aftermath of the cats’ raid on North Watch, when I had been in an…altered mental state. Some combination of the stress and focus of that moment must have been a factor, but damn if I understood how; I hadn’t been able to reproduce the effect since, and Biribo didn’t seem to know anything. So for now, I used the slow spell.

It was at least a slow, continuous spell. I murmured soothingly to Thunder, occasionally reaching up to stroke his neck or nose while I constantly channeled the warm, sparkling breeze from my other hand over the long wound in his lower leg. This took…well, okay, it probably wasn’t minutes, I was spoiled by having an instantaneous cast, but it took an annoyingly long span of seconds at least. It did work, though. As I patiently cast, the swelling subsided right before my eyes, and the actual cuts gradually closed. Eventually—soon enough, all things considered—they had sealed up entirely, leaving barely a scar. The hair on his leg wasn’t evenly restored, which Heal would have done, but hopefully it would grow back in.

I finally let the magic drop and straightened back up.

“There you go, you big goober. How’s that feel?”

Thunder raised his head and whinnied jubilantly. I gave him an affectionate slap on the neck and he took off at a trot. Everyone turned to watch the stallion as he launched into another loop of his paddock, this time fully energetic and with no trace of a limp, quickly breaking into a canter which this time he could sustain without effort.

The result was an outburst of cheering and applause from the assembled highborn, which caused Thunder to come to a stop, turning to stare at them with his ears flat back. He shifted his head to look at me, snorting, and I could understand him as clearly as if he’d spoken in plain Japanese.

Stupid humans, always making sudden noises. What the hell were they thinking?

“Yeah, I hear ya, buddy,” I said softly. Just within my peripheral vision, the groom in the paddock with us nodded agreement before catching himself. He got it.

“Lord Seiji, that was absolutely marvelous!” That was Highlord Lhadron talking. His attention I actually needed in particular, so I turned and strode back to the fence to join him. He was right up next to it, along with Aster; the rest of the gathered highborn were spectating from a meter or so back. Evidently somebody had cautioned them about screwing around too close to the horses, though any warning on the subject of sudden loud noises had failed to stick. “I confess I took you for Conzart in the falcon’s gallery when you hopped the fence, but there’s no denying you know what you’re about. And what results! Any man who’s so deft with horses can only be good in my book.”

“Actually I think of myself more as a dog person, but I like animals,” I said, coming to a stop just on the other side of the fence from him. “Animals…are not people. And that, I feel, is praiseworthy.”

I was not raising my voice or even projecting, mindful of Thunder and other horses nearby, but I spoke at a sufficient volume to be audible to all the aristocrats clustered around, and they all tittered at what they presumably thought was a joke.

“Well said, my lord, well said,” Lhadron agreed. “But still, you jest, surely. An animal lover is one thing, but there’s no way you’re unaccustomed to horses!”

“Well, I’ve handled gwynneks. Those are a lot worse. But while we’re on the subject, Highlord, I wonder if you would indulge my curiosity a bit on the subject of horses?”

“Why, that’s my favorite subject!” He stepped back, clearing a landing zone for me as I vaulted back over the fence the other way. It was not a short fence, but I was in really good shape these days, managing as before to clear it in a single motion without even snagging my coat. “I can’t find it in me to believe you’re as unfamiliar as you claim, but after what you did for my poor boy there, I’m certainly inclined to indulge a lot more than that!”

“It’s mostly the economics I’m interested in,” I said lightly. Expression calm, pleasant, open. The bait coaxing him into the trap. “You know how it is; handling the animals myself is gratifying to the soul, but I’m accustomed to having people to do the actual management for me.”

“Ah, I do indeed,” Lhadron replied, nodding in understanding. “By all means, Lord Seiji, consider my time and expertise at your disposal.”

I smiled at him, completely calm and pleasant, for just a half-second too long. It didn’t really matter if he started to smell trouble; I needed to ratchet up the tension quickly, or the onlookers would lose interest. All of this would be pointless if they wandered off.

“About how much do you have to feed a horse?” I asked. “On a, oh, let’s say, a daily basis.”

“Daily fodder?” Lhadron repeated, tilting his head inquisitively. “Well it depends, of course. On the individual, the breed, what sort of work they do… And also, of course, what one feeds them. To say nothing of the season; during the grazing months they require much less. But if I were to average it as broadly as possible, and presuming a blend of oats and the better quality haffiras hay to which my animals are accustomed, and talking strictly of winter feed for the sake of argument… What do you think, Hadder? Perhaps half a bhutrec a day, per horse?”

“A good estimate, Highlord, if we’re adjusting for all those factors,” the groom on this side of the fence agreed diffidently. “You’re of course right, my lord, that’s a very theoretical figure. Actual numbers would vary widely.”

Yeah, that was on me. Asking an Ephemeran anything that had to do with measurements would lead to no result but pointless noise, I should’ve expected that. A bhutrec was probably based on the average weight of a male elf’s morning dump or something equally inane… Ah, well, my purposes here didn’t actually include learning about the economics of horsekeeping. Best to move this along before his lecturing bored the audience.

“And what about you… Hadder, was it?” I turned to the groom with a smile.

He blinked, glanced at Lhadron and back. “I, ah… Me, m’lord? I agreed with the Highlord’s—”

“Oh, no, I mean how much do you eat?”

The poor man blinked again, twice. “Well, that is… Less than a horse, my lord. An animal like Thunder there is five times the weight, and that’s if I fatten up.”

This dude did not appear to be in any danger of fattening up. He at least had a coat, though it was thinner than this weather called for. I could see the bones in his face far more clearly than should be normal.

“Makes sense,” I said in my most amiable tone. “I keep coming back to your statement, Highlord, that horses are more valuable than lowborn. It certainly sounds like they’re more expensive to upkeep.”

“Hah! Yes, quite so,” Lhadron chuckled. “Not to mention more pleasant company. Isn’t that right, Hadder?”

The groom smiled uneasily; the agreeing snickers from the onlookers clearly adding to his discomfort. “Quite right, Highlord.”

I did not bristle at the pointless cruelty. Calm, smiling…just faintly ominous.

“And what can you do with a horse?”

All of them turned to me at that, Lhadron and the grooms frowning in confusion. The audience were watching avidly now, quite a few of them probably beginning to suspect I was up to shenanigans.

“Do?” Lhadron finally asked, his own broad smile beginning to betray uncertainty now. “Why, I almost don’t know where to begin. What can’t a horse do?”

“Arithmetic,” I said immediately, my smile still fixed in place. “Somebody has to do the accounting for all that hay and oats; they certainly can’t. Music—any sort of art, really. Medicine, alchemy, weaving, cooking, interpretive dance—”

“All right, you’ve made your point,” Lhadron exclaimed, “such as it is. I never thought I’d meed someone so pedantic as to point out that a horse is not a man.”

“I was rather surprised myself,” I said cheerfully, “to meet someone who needed it pointed out. I’m not the fellow who declared horses more valuable than peasants, after all.”

“Now see here—”

“So if you think about it, really,” I barreled on over him, “in strictly practical terms, a horse is basically a force multiplier. Right? They’re big, powerful, and fast. You use them to do things better—but things for which you ultimately still need people.”

“Now that, sir,” he said, pointing a warning finger at me, “might be the most spiritually impoverished thing I have ever heard a man say. The value of a horse is self-evident—that majesty, the beauty, the virtue of these Goddess-given creatures. If anyone is so shallow of heart as to need it pointed out to them, I daresay they are incapable of comprehending that which is plain to all. I must say, Lord Seiji, after what you just showed us I thought you of all men would understand.”

“Oh, I do. That I do,” I murmured, turning to look into the paddock again. Seeing me paying attention to him, Thunder whinnied companionably, but did not come over to me. There were, after all, a whole bunch of loud, unpredictable humans loitering over here; I couldn’t blame him. “Just look… Magnificent. Truly. You can see that one little piece of creation and not need to think about what value there is in life. Am I right? The sheer, simple glory of it is just…there.”

“Precisely.” He was smiling again—still a bit off-balance and uncertain what I was up to, but now hearing something with which he agreed wholeheartedly.

“And that,” I mused, “is the ineffable quality which horses have, that peasants do not. Or such is your contention, I take it?”

“Well, good heavens, man,” Lhadron chuckled, shaking his head. “That’s another thing I can’t imagine needing to point out.”

Hadder was standing there stiffly, staring into the pasture and clearly wishing he didn’t exist, but not daring to say a word or take a step with so many highborn surrounding him. The peanut gallery had formed a semicircle several bodies deep, from which there was no easy escape, and suggesting that any of them should get out of his way would doubtless be more than his life was worth.

I nodded, turning my head toward him, putting my face in profile to the audience behind. “The distinction between a creature of obvious value, of nearly divine significance, and one which is merely there to be used.”

“Well said, Lord Seiji,” he replied with a satisfied smirk. “Truly, I couldn’t have put it better myself.”

Got you, asshole.

“And I can tell you’re a man who knows how to care for his livestock,” I said pleasantly. “Just look how sleek and well-fed these horses are! They have better housing than the villagers, it seems. More and better-quality food. Why, some of those horses are wearing blankets! When so many of your peasants don’t seem to have coats.”

Poor Lhadron was starting to look impatient, now. Worse, he was beginning to glance around at the onlookers, who were watching avidly and without sympathy. He didn’t realize exactly how I’d trapped him, yet, but was beginning to suspect that I had.

“Yes, so you mentioned. But as we were just discussing—”

“Indeed yes, we’ve already been over it, haven’t we? The horses are to be appreciated, while the villagers are to be useful.” I began to pace, now. Moving very slowly in an arc, delineating the space between the Highlord and the crowd of his peers. I couldn’t fully circle him like a vulture with the fence in the way, but I made do. “Which is curious, isn’t it? Be they horses, sheep, dhawls, lowborn, whatever… You can’t get much use out of an animal if it’s starved, beaten, neglected and cold. Any landowner with an eye to turning a profit from his resources takes proper care of them. And that’s just the damnedest thing, Lhadron. Some people I might dismiss as idiots who just don’t know how to manage their property—but we can all clearly see that you’re no idiot! Just look how skillfully and generously you care for these horses, and how much profit you gain from them because of it! Clearly, you’re a man who understands the proper management of livestock.”

I reached the end of the available space and turned, pacing back the other way, hands folded behind my back. Lhadron was now staring at me through narrowed eyes, still not comprehending the trap even as he could feel its jaws closing on him. All around, the aristocrats were staring eagerly at the impending comeuppance of their friend and host, smelling blood in the water.

They were the real proof that the highborn were doomed. Any social group that has what it takes to survive will rally to protect their own. These fuckers couldn’t wait to see the alpha of their group raked over the coals.

“It’s almost,” I mused, “as if you’re trying to accomplish something else.”

“I’m sure I don’t know what you are getting at,” he began.

“I know you don’t,” I said, putting on my kindest, most patrician smile. “Otherwise, none of this would be happening. But don’t worry, my dear Highlord, I am going to enlighten you.”

I gave him a shark’s smile—a goblin’s smile—and slowly drew in a breath, letting the tension hang upon us all, building that pressure just so I could unleash its full force. Savoring that last moment of anticipation before I opened my mouth and destroyed a man’s entire life. God, I lived for it.

Showtime.